I pulled out the worm from your apple
the splinter from your foot
I combed your hair before, during and after.
Because you love me?
Because you love me.
You don’t love me?
No.
You pouted.
Why?
Why what?
You don’t love me.
I do love you. Immensely.
You said you don’t love me.
I said No to You don’t love me.
Which is the same as Yes I love you. Immensely.
So you love me.
No.
You pouted again.
What is it with beautiful women and small cranial cavity?
I love you. Immensely.
Oh.
You got it.
We were seated on a bench, in front of Eden.
Naked. No fig leaf.
Do you think he opens today?
He might be she. Or it.
Or none.
Or both.
Or all. Maybe he-she-it-none-all is a fish.
Maybe. We were all fishes, once.
Yet maybe he-she-it-none-all evolved as well.
Into what?
A bigger fish.
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, went your laughter.
What else?
What else what?
The worm, the splinter, the worm...
what else you did?
For you?
For me.
I rolled the world round.
I rolled the sun too, the problem was to make it burn.
See? I succeeded.
I also bent the banana.
No, this was not you.
No, this was not me, true, this was someone else.
I did paint it yellow, though.
Why?
Why what?
And you talk about women and their small cranial cavity.
Why yellow?
Because there was enough red, and green, and blue,
there was need for yellow.
Watermelon is yellow.
Yes, I painted it too.
Did you paint my neighbor’s teeth too?
No, this was Nicotine.
Nicotine is a bad guy.
Every good story needs a bad guy.
Is this a story?
No, this is good.
I pushed a cloud to cover the sun.
Why did you do that? you asked, shivering.
You shiver with cold?
I shiver with pleasure.
In order to feel the heat of your skin.
I pulled the sun and the cloud and a few birds down to the horizon
crushing them into the rich motley of squashed fruits and colors.
Poor birds.
Listen.
We listened.
There were blackbirds, and bluebirds, and yellowbirds
chasing sunbirds.
I hear a turkey. What is a turkey doing inside the motley?
Flying into the sun?... I volunteered.
I pushed you on your back,
the narrow slabs cutting deep ruts in your back
as I made love to you.
You pushed me on my back,
the narrow slabs cutting deep ruts in my back
as you made love to me.
I pushed you on your back,
the narrow slabs cutting deep ruts in your back
as I made love to you.
You pushed me on my back,
the narrow slabs cutting deep ruts in my back
as you made love to me.
You look like a checkerboard.
You look like a checkerberry.
You look like a checkerbloom.
You look like a checkerspot.
Do you think we should have waited for the gate to open?
I picked some silver from your hair
and went over, painting it over the gate.
Now it was a mirror.
You watched our reflection,
naked flesh enveloping naked flesh, king and queen,
dragon and tamer, cow and grass.
Cow and grass?
You prefer thorn and dew?
For whatever reason you preferred thorn and dew.
Why did you paint it silver? Now we see us.
So that now we don’t have to wait for the gate to open into Eden.
Now we see Eden.
A turkey landed next to us, gobbling excitedly,
a piece of sun in its beak.
See? I told you.
You refused to see anything except for Eden,
trembling uncontrollably next to me.
Author notes
someone told me not to like dialogues in poetry. someone told me not to like long poems. this poem is NOT for those someones. it is for those who like... poetry!!! 
In a list
- Beautiful Words by Beautiful People I Know • next in list
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Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Continue writing for 'not those someones'
I realize today, it are your dialogue pieces that hold the most creativity in my view...your thoughts and images penned cause a delirious delight to spread wings and fly to higher plains of existance and meaning.
So many images and feelings conveyed to my li'l heart, but this part I'm totally enamoured by:
"I picked some silver from your hair
and went over, painting it over the gate.
Now it was a mirror.
You watched our reflection..."
SUPERB writing Poet!
Let the ink flow!
love and blessings, Sandi
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when i read such a comment, i feel almost compelled to stop writing altogether, fearing the next one might not be as good in such appreciating eyes. this is a magnificent comment, sandi my friend, thank you
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I love all your pieces, but the dialogues are magic
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Carry on, Scribe. The Path is Yours to Follow...
"I combed your hair before, during and after."
"You refused to see anything except for Eden,
trembling uncontrollably next to me."
Well, I for one, thoroughly enjoy dialogue in poetry, especially in yours, dear Scribe. No, I didn't quote any back to you (this time) because it was these two portions that sang to me the most. I have always adored hands in my hair...be it the man I love or a child I love...I am not tender~headed & it feels so...magnificent. As for the second part I quoted...it is any wonder??? How could she do otherwise, considering??? As always, a curious, thoughtful, intelligent & witty penning, my Friend...forget the naysayers, Scribe. You write what you want, when you want...just as THEY do (or don't, as the case may be). It is your voice, your talent, to bear (& bare) as you will. Those of us who read your works prefer you are you are. Those that don't, or who ONLY criticize...can simply move on...or as Sonja said on one of hers, "just turn to another page". Amen!!! 
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as always, your words are amongst the lights guiding me on thank you, wanda
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Your poetry is always much more than "words"
Well, I like poetry, good poetry, and I am here to tell you - I like it and I love it!. Some people are mostly scared of things which are written different. This poem is written so great that it could be used as a great tv scenario. What a great "rolling" ending... 
I can see this turkey and this picture makes me to smile wide. As always you amaze me with you unique talent. 's
~Sonja~
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we are good friends, sure. yet, still, there is such naked honesty to your comment that it brings a physical tear to my physical eye. while all the non-physical parts of my body are simply feasting on your words
thank you dear sonja.
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